


Wesley and the Perils of Thirty

by psocoptera



Series: Thirty Fic [7]
Category: Star Trek: Nemesis, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: 30Fic, Career Climbing, Gen, Life Path Divergence, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-12
Updated: 2007-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2034036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/pseuds/psocoptera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley is sick of weddings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wesley and the Perils of Thirty

Wesley Crusher was getting really, really sick of weddings.

Oh, Will and Deanna's had been lovely. Geordi and Leah's, the same. Robin and Dalisay, he'd been a little wistful. But it was seeming like now that he and his humanoid Academy-mates had crossed thirty, they'd all decided it was time to formalize their commitments, like some sort of subspace synchronization signal had gone off. The marriage plague was spreading among his friends on Dorvan V as well, and it was all starting to be a bit much.

The problem, he thought, as he clapped for his former gravimetrics lab partner and her radiant new wife and then dutifully followed the crowd to the buffet next door, the problem was not weddings per se, but the social occasions that surrounded them. Especially among his Academy friends, there only seemed to be two topics of conversation at weddings: one, other weddings, and two, promotions.

The conversation that he now found himself on the edge of was a perfect example:

"Have you heard, Jerald's made lieutenant commander!" a pretty blonde woman was saying. Wesley thought she might have been in one of his history classes.

"So's Plexith, we were on the same ship briefly, but then I got transferred to the _Chawla_ ," an orange-skinned man said. Wesley didn't recognize him but he was guessing by the uniform and pips he'd been made chief of engineering, a guess that was quickly confirmed when his comment elicited a round of excited congatulations.

"The timing worked out perfectly, too," the orange-skinned man added, "I was able to leave off at 'base 53 and make it down to Seena's wedding, I know a bunch of people had trouble with getting to that one."

Wesley had of course been there, but in the high-UV protection goggles everyone had looked sort of grey-blue, so he thought it no wonder he didn't recognize the man.

"I was so sorry to miss that," a two-nosed woman said. Wesley was glad to see her here; Faitana had hauled him through second-year sociogenetics when he'd been pouring everything into his warp theory seminar. "And Paarven's, too. At least I think I'll make it to Brr-ek'ek'ek's."

"Brr-ek'ek'ek's getting married?"

"Oh, no, did she not invite everybody? She's going to be devouring her first mate soon, and I guess they do a bit of a ceremony."

Yeesh, Wesley thought, now the non-humanoids were getting into it?

He must have reacted visibly because Faitana and the blonde woman both turned to him.

"How about you, Wesley, what are you up to these days?" the blonde asked.

"Well," he answered slowly, knowing that divulging the interesting details would turn the party into a class-three information security breach, "I travel a lot."

"Oh," Faitana said, " _That's_ nice. I don't make it out of the research station very often. Now, you have to tell me everything about Seena's wedding," she said, turning back to the orange-skinned man, "What did she do with her fur?"

Wesley excused himself to the bar. When he'd made the decision to go with the Traveller, he hadn't considered the potential for small-talk.

"Hey," he thought in his head now, "Guess what, guys? I can cross the galaxy in moments, without a starship, by focusing my consciousness on a higher plane of being! I've walked on planets that humans won't see for another hundred years! The sunsets are really great on this one K-class in the Cygnus Arm!" He sighed.

As he approached the bar he spotted a dark-haired woman sitting alone at a table. She looked a little melancholy, and she had fabulous cheekbones.

What the heck, Wesley thought, and walked over to her.

"Hey," he said, "Can I get a pretty lady a drink?"

She looked up, a little startled, then looked him up and down. "Hi," she said, smiling crookedly, "Out of uniform for the day?"

Wesley was in his typical civilian whatever, a little crisper for the occasion; most of the rest of the room was in dress whites-and-braids.

"Nope," he said, smiling, "I'm a free agent."

"Oh," she said, deflating and looking away, "Nice to meet you."

"Sorry," Wesley muttered as he resumed course for the bar, "Didn't know you needed collar pips to flirt at a party."

He ordered a synthascotch, and sipped it a little bitterly. His thoughts wandered to Robin and then to Salia, the allasomorph girl he had met on the Enterprise when he was just an acting ensign. She'd longed for nothing more than to travel the galaxy. He wondered if the prohibition on her ever leaving her planet would apply to private jaunts, no ship required? Sneak out to the stars and back in time for tea... and she already ruled her planet, so she probably didn't give a lot of thought to the issue of career advancement.

Best of all, he thought, he was pretty sure allasomorphs reproduced by budding. If he remembered his sociogenetics right, that meant the odds were pretty good it was an entire planet with no weddings. Yes, Wesley decided, savoring his drink, a visit to Salia was definitely in order. 

**Author's Note:**

> He's canonically thirty at the wedding in Nemesis, if you're checking my math ::grin::.


End file.
